R 3

Yet another milestone - third date!

R met all of my mates last week when he turned up at the pub, and everyone thoroughly approved of him, thank goodness. So tomorrow I have to endure curry night with the lads at their local, and then bowling.

The bowling I can cope with. Give me competitive sport over conversation any day. R and I can have more psychological banter over who's gonna win and then I can pull a cute face when I lose dramatically. Perfect.

Making up for a lifetime of singledom

Jelly still has the massivest grin pasted across her face.

Not only was the double date absolutely fabulous, but R is still texting me as frequently as ever, and there has been another date since.

We took H along with us, cos originally it was gonna be a group night out, and then one by one everyone bailed, so we went to play pool and then H buggered off home about half way through the night.

Which was nice timing, actually, considering that R and I were just at the hand-holding, sitting-very-close-together, mushy-early-romance point then.

So we had half a night hanging out with just the two of us, and I think we managed it alright. Not too many silences, and any silences you do have while curled up on a window seat together don't tend to be too awkward anyway...

Finally I drove him home and we then proceeded to spend a further half hour parked on his driveway getting further aquainted. Fortunately his housemates were out...

I don't think anything can beat the first kiss moment, but a seriously amazingly second date kiss was alright by me. And the car still smells of him. It's all I can do not to inhale deeply every time I get in it now.

Oh, and Double Date II is already in the diaries for next weekend. S is away this week, so I have to put up with a mopey H while trying not to waffle on about how unbelievably lovely R is, especially since I promised I wouldn't put her in the 'friend-in-the-middle' position.

K knows about R and I. It isn't gonna be pretty when we next meet. Bring it on, girlfriend. He's mine... :D

Jelly and R, sitting in a tree...

I cannot wipe the grin off my face.

The most amazing, weirdest double date occurred last night. H, S, R and I went for a drink. Somehow in a few hours it morphed from a planned Pre-Spain drinkies event into a seriously mushy sweet date.

So... several wires have been uncrossed, and even more tangled.

S is with H. I am with R. Everything is looking fabulous.

Reflections... ...snoitcelfeR

I'm starting to seriously question whether I can cope with Medicine. I don't think I'll have issues with it intellectually. In fact, I cannot wait to start with the textbooks and labs and research journals...

But I do worry about coping emotionally.

I've been a volunteer on a medical ward at my local hospital for fourteen months. I love most of the staff, and occasionally I enjoy the afternoons I spend there. I'll admit that I relish the afternoons when the F1 on call adopts me and lets me shadow for a few hours (last time, I got to listen to aortic regurgitation! Whoosh! Whoosh!). Mostly I clean stuff, and tidy up, and run the odd errand. Mostly to send sample off to the lab, or fetch stuff from other wards, or, on special occasions, to get ABG results (I got to use the machine myself! I think the bloke who demonstrated it thought I was just a dumb doctor, rather than clueless volunteer), etc.

There is the occasional shift where I come home emotionally drained.

Memories of spending hours with a chap who had advanced Parkinsons, trying to persuade him to stay in his chair. He was so strong that once he was stood, I was powerless to stop him, so it was a case of prevention by distraction. I can still see him turning slowly around the centre of the ward, dancing with his wife.

A succession of shifts doing one-on-one work with a bloke in his 50's who'd had a stroke. He was physically fine, just prone to confusion and wandering. I used to sit in his side-room with him and read Heat magazine, or play draughts, or chess. We'd sit for hours and listen to the music chart on the radio. I'd mock him gently for wearing his trackie bottoms half-way down his bottom like some young chav.

And today.

I heard the yells and screams from the staffroom, where I'd escaped to in order to text R (and S - we haven't been for that coffee yet). I could also hear moo-ing. I returned to the ward to find an exasperated bank nurse. She had a distressed old dear in pain from terminal cancer that was refusing to calm down.

I spent the following two hours sat with this woman, holding her papery thin hand, stroking the velvet skin, softly in fear of tearing open the fragile veins. Telling her everything was ok; telling her that she needed to stay in bed to gather her energy; telling her that the nurses were looking after her, doing their best to get her well again.

I could see the tumours. A massive swollen abdomen, like a full-term pregnancy. A mass the size of her head protuding from her chest. Every so often she would shift, writhing from the pain in her bones, riddled with metastases.

She refused her tablets. Refused the soluble paracetamol I proffered. And sobbed. Cried. Dry tears, with a desperate plea in old eyes. Help me. Let me go. Let me die. And begging, in a low mutter 'I give up. Let me die. I just want to go. Let me give up. Let me die. Help me. You're a volunteer. Help me with this please. Just help me die.'

She'd spent the early afternoon telling every other member of staff to go away. Only once did I get told to leave, and that was when, against my better judgement, I was trying to get her to drink the paracetamol while the nurse gave her a Clexane injection. Every offer of tablets, painkillers, insulin; all met with a polite, but firm 'No thank you.'

She drifted in and out of sleep by the end of my shift. I sat by the bed, one hand gently clasping hers, my smooth tanned skin against her wrinkled bruised. Her eyes, once bright with sparkle, were dull, half-closed. I read, analysing an article that a nursing student friend had had published recently in a prestigious journal. I was thinking of my future, of a career in medicine. She was thinking of the past. She has no future.

One thing she said will stick with me for a long time. 'You don't know what it's like to be like this'.

She's right. I never want to experience the pain of metastatic cancer. I don't want to pass away in pain. I don't want to be so alone at the end that a volunteer sits with me.

But, when I get to that point, I want to be that defiant. I want to be as polite, yet firm. I want to wind the nurses up, yet be the type of person that they still care about even after their shift ends.

I don't know if I want to die on my terms. It got me thinking about euthanasia, and I don't want to go into it here, because I will just go round and round in circles, but how is it fair that I can walk out of here because of a petty argument and kill myself if I want to, yet a lady who has lived her whole life and wants to end the pain that she's in, can't?

I left her asleep, calm. Serene, compared to how I'd met her earlier. The nurses thanked me. I wanted to thank her, for letting me in, allowing me to see beyond 'death by cancer' and learn.

It's still haunting my mind. There is no way of walking out of the hospital doors, leaving everything there. I bring that emotional baggage home.

How do I cope with this? Will this get easier to deal with? I don't want to end up as an emotionless drone just to save myself from falling too deep into the lives of my patients. Is it humanly possible to emotionally connect with another human being and then walk away unattached?

I don't want to lose myself in the emotional trauma of the job, though...

Bitchin'

H has just really wound me up. Not even about the ultimatum thing, which to be honest, was something that needed saying at some point, and at least she did it tactfully.

When I said I'd speak to S about it, she started saying 'oh we could go for a drink with him after dance and then i'l just disappear to the bar so you two can talk'.

Yes, H, when I was 14 and needed your help to talk to boys, that would have been fine. However, I'm 19. I've grown up a bit. I don't have any issues with going out for a drink or coffee or whatever with S, just the two of us, and breaking the news myself.

I know she was trying to help, but it just irks me that she still seems to think I'm incapable of dealing with men. Ok, so I needed it pointing out to me that it was mean for me to continue hanging onto S and R, but I did realise that, I was just still in denial stage.

Surely its a forgivable offence if you take into account the mitigating circumstances that S was the first guy to show an interest in me that I didn't go to school with, that didn't know anything about me except how I am now? S was the first guy to show an interest in me in years. A took me out because he was forced into it by AH. J and I go back so far I don't even remember it starting.

I was so bowled over by the fact that a gorgeous, sexy, charming guy, one with a sensible job that even my mother approved of that I kinda lost track of the fact that we don't have much in common beyond H and Spain.

Who wouldn't be flattered by a bloke like S texting them constantly telling them they were sexy? I thrived on the attention.

I didn't count on meeting R. He didn't figure in my plans for a hassle-free summer romance with S before I left for the North.

Now I've got it sorted in my head. I want R. I'm falling for R, big time. I got myself into this 2-bloke mess, I'm quite capable of getting myself out of it.

H isn't one to talk, anyway. I don't think I'd have failed to notice that M was a whore.

Ultimatums, decisions, and soppy Jelly's...

H issued an ULTIMATUM, of sorts. Pick R or S, and stick to that decision. Tell them.

So... it didn't take much deliberation. S has been invited for coffee later this week. He is under the unfortunate illusion that it's a date.

H has also given me the script, or at least a rough outline. I quote:

"I really like you but if we do share a room in spain, I don't want you to be under the illusion that anything's gonna happen cos I don't really want that. You're a fab friend but I think we'd be better just staying as friends and if you're honest, I don't think you'd be into starting a relationship with me anyway"

I do plan to edit that somewhat...

I want to manage to get what he said about "being cautious about getting involved in anything in case it doesn't work out and messes up Spain" into the conversation without it being blatantly obvious that I'm simply throwing his words back at him.

That sounds like I'm being bitchy about this. Let's get this clear. I'm not.

The guilt of stringing along two guys was starting to set in, and I realised that even if R said he wasn't interested, I'd be too busy getting over that to go out with S anyway. Yes, first meeting to love in less than a week. I REALLY do fall head over heels sometimes.

Man waffle... ignore if wanting to preserve own sanity

Summer seems to be set on roller-coaster mode. One second I'm on top of the world, the next I'm wondering what tripped me up.

Just as I was falling for R, obstacles are appearing. Namely K (not K, my CPN...another K), H's other best friend (complicated? No..). She has apparently fancied R for ages. And was unfortunately with him last night when I was texting him. So she got a pretty good idea of the situation straight off.

Of course she had a slight advantage in knowing I was the enemy a good twenty-four hours before I was aware of this. So she used this time wisely to sow seeds of doubt, and subtly drop into conversation every tiny negative thing she could think of about my personality, friends, past boyfriends, etc.

No wonder I got a frosty reception when I saw her today.

Bitch.

Pointing out to my (potential) boyfriend that there's no way I'll sleep with him because of my faith is just scraping the barrel to piss me off. It's not something I'm ashamed of, and my religious views are stated quite clearly on my Facebook page! I don't keep it a secret!

What bothers me more is that K has now left H a little bit trapped between us. H is being amazing about it so far, passing on everything K says about me, and providing plenty of man-advice... which I can always do with!

I'm trying my darnest to follow the damn advice, but it involves playing it cool and not texting him as often. I'm only allowed to text him if he texts first, and I have to leave a suitable (i.e. >1/2 hour) delay before I reply. Thank goodness for msn... although I'm not allowed to initiate a conversation on that either.

Sigh...

I think I may have just nabbed myself a copy of the video of his last school play. Ok, so it was in exchange for the dvd of my dance school show, but what he doesn't know is that even my parents failed to recognise me in it :) And I can't see any downsides to him seeing me in a leotard and tights.

S hasn't text me since last night. The conversation revolved entirely around what he insists on referring to as 'S-loving'. Hmm... think we need to have words about Spanish sleeping arrangements if things go the way I'm hoping...

MAJOR NEW DEVELOPMENTS *anti-climax alert*

Yet again, Jelly getting all giddy and excited about tiny little things that she should really learn to read less into.

S has sent me a text last thing at night pretty much every night since we've known each other, so I'm used to gettin a text late at night just sayin 'night night hun xx' or my personal favourite 'night night sexy, ya know i'd be cuddling ya all night if i was there xx'.

I got my first goodnight text from R the other night. It was simply 'night Jelly' (of course, he used my real name, not Jelly, but you get the gist), because I hadn't text him back from a previous little text convo we were having.

Tonight I got a goodnight text with a kiss. This is significant (to me, at least. To anyone else, it means nothing. Less than nothing).

There are never kisses on R's texts. I've always been careful not to put any little x's on my texts to him either, while I'll nearly always add 'xx' to the end of any text to S, just because it's blatantly public that I fancy the pants off S.

So now I'm off to sleep, or at least to lay in bed and gurgle excitedly about text kisses :)

Sad, moi? Never.

Whoever runs this bus company is having a laugh at my expense...

Buses come in threes, yes?

Uh. No.

The Jelly-Man bus company sends them in fours.

Mr Not-Quite-Perfects-Best-Mate has appeared.

Let's start at the beginning, with J (aka Mr I-Thought-We-Were-Well-And-Truly-Over-Months-Ago). Now there is a long history with J and I. He's been kind of a back up for nearly three years. I'm his back-up.

Yes, that sounds like we were simply using each other, and that's a pretty good way to describe it. If we were at the same party, or even just hanging out at the pub with mates, we would end up getting together. I'm not proud of this.

J has always resisted my attempts to move this from a casual arrangement to more of a relationship, always claiming that he was happy with how things were. Until I, according to a mutual friend, 'completely broke his heart' by talking about S in front of him. So there was a pity snog. I'm even less proud of that. So the next day, when he sent a text fishing for clues about where 'we' were going, relationship-wise, I dug the knife deeper. Told him I wasn't looking for a relationship and that I was concentrating on other stuff in life. Last I heard, he was hanging onto this glimmer of hope that there may be an 'us' in the future. He's sorely mistaken.

A was Mr Perfect. Who just wants to be friends. But persists in touching my knee or arm if we're sat together talking, who still acts as flirtatiously towards me as before our date. I'm still pretty certain that if he changed his mind about the friends thing, I'd be straight there.

S is my dream come true. Sort of. Attentive, sweet, caring and yet there's a malicious side that lurks. S is gorgeous; toned and fit from his job. Independant, strong-willed, yet docile as a puppy when he wants to be. And incredibly ticklish.

There's no twisted history here. It's a classic boy-meets girl... ending in a kiss that made me feel like I was floating. My stomach somersaults every time I allow my mind to wander to that night. I cannot wait to go on holiday with him. Sun, sea, sand... and anything else beginning with S, in Spain.

R is the latest addition. S's closest friend since childhood - oh, what a tangled web we weave. I have spent hours on hours talking to R online, but if you asked me what we talk about, my reply would be to ask you to define infinity.

I won't say that I was instantly attracted to him when we met, because I had eyes only for S, but R and I just click. I cannot remember meeting someone and being able to talk for hours instantly, without any awkward silences. He knows about S and I. According to my friend H, that may be why he likes me; the competition.

I don't want to be trapped between S and R. I like them both, in completely different ways. S physically attracts me. It makes me smile when he texts me, to be called sweetie and hun and sexy bum :) I don't care that he wants to play it cool until we get on holiday, because I can see what he's thinking: there's no point in messing this up before we even leave the country.

I have denied fancying R. Constantly denied it, to myself and to my friends. But that doesn't change that fact that I can't wipe the grin off my face if he texts me. We have a lot in common. A similar sense of humour. I could say that about me and S. But R is special. Apparently we spent the first night we physically met talking constantly, trapped in our own little world, while S and our other friends looked on. I got suitably berated later for my 'APPALLING' behaviour. My only defence is that S completely blanked me for the first half hour; wouldn't even look in my direction. I think I'm forgiven a little harmless flirting. Or at least it was harmless then. The monster has grown...

You can't lose hours of your life talking to someone that you don't like. We have our own little in-jokes already. We have days out planned, just the two of us (the first of which just got cancelled due to a premature end to this heatwave). I started talking to him because he's also coming on holiday with us. I wanted S, so I befriended his friends.

And then fell for one of them...

Siesta.. no chance!

Spain is booked. At last. Nearly a thousand pounds has disappeared from my account in one fell swoop.

Now all I need to do is sit back and wait for everyone's money to roll in...

I cannot wait for this holiday! Last year's trip to Spain was good - this is gonna be even better!

I keep thinking of it as a Big-Brother style house. Eight people who don't really know each other that well cooped up with lots of alcohol and a pool.

Let's meet the cast:

Firstly, there's H. It's her family's villa. So naturally, she gets first dibs on bedrooms. Bang goes the ensuite at the top of the house with the ocean view and balcony. H is my bestest buddy in the whole world and has been so for years. She's my gossip queen, and company for coffee. We are battling not to be the fattest girl on holiday. Yes, you read that right. Two very slim built teenage girls are actively fighting not to be the pudgiest in our holiday crew.

There's the resident couple: A and F. A is my ex, and H's. He's a really close mate, and loves being the alpha-male protecting his clique of women. F and I have become really good mates while A has been at uni this year. Expect much giggly bitching, cocktail drinking, and backing each other up to annoy the blokes. A and F have the separate flat by the poolside due to their couple status.

Then there's the playboy: M. In recent weeks, H has fallen in love with M, despite him being completely (amazingly) honest about his status as a man whore. She has been cruelly rebuffed. Nah, it all got sorted far too humanely and politely for my liking. He opened his big gob at the pre-spain drinkies evening and told everyone he was sleeping with the police force whore - cue classic H face-drop. Cue much muffled yelling at M by me, while H escaped to the bar. I got a copy of the emails sent the following day (H sent them to me! I do not hack other people's emails! Only their facebooks...) and it was such a mature conversation it almost made me sick. I would have been all 'i want to castrate you with a blunt tea spoon' and they were getting all philosophical about relationships and trust and honesty and urgh... pass the sick bucket now. Back on topic, M is hot. And he knows it. H and M are supposedly sharing a room, but I think he may be relegated to the sofa by night 2.

S is M's housemate. And my holiday hottie. And my room-mate for the duration of the vacation. Oooh I can't wait!! Many a saucy text has been exchanged regarding the sleeping arrangements... I think S will be the source of practical jokes and the king of wind-ups. Any excuse to tickle him will be fine by me... I bagsied the room I had last year, a big double overlooking the pool and the ocean, and right next to the kitchen and bathroom. There is a door leading straight out onto the steps to the pool area, but I don't think we ever found the key.

R is S's friend, the equivalent to my H. R drew the short straw. As it currently stands, R is sharing with E, another bloke. They have the teeny weeny twin room next to mine and S's. R's a sweetie. Absolutely hilarious, my laugh-a-minute buddy and fellow parent of Jude Fernando, our hat-child (don't even ask... but there is a Disney film in the pipeline starring Keira Knightley and Orlando Bloom to play me and R). Oh we're gonna have fun...

E went to school with H, A and I. He's our classic english tourist. Turns up at the airport in socks-n-sandals, a hawaiian shirt, bermuda shorts, and a straw hat. A and E intend to consume more Jagemeister during these 10 days than they managed last year. We need to replicate last year's classic holiday photo of the two of them sat on the edge of the pool with all the empty bottles between them. Sarky, laddish and seemingly asexual, E will be chief guiness drinker and proud winner of the worst sunburn award. I can guarantee that in advance.

That just leaves me. Jelly, taunter of men-folk, house-mother, queen of the suncream and adoptive mother of Jude the hat. Currently seeing S in a very casual, not really anything actually going on way. Would willingly snog M if the opportunity arose. Must try harder not to shamelessly flirt in a timeless way with A over our shared history, particularly in front of girlfriend F. Falling in love with R (more on this breaking news another time). Planning on developing a perfect even bronzed tan, going running at least five times while on holiday, and swimming before breakfast. I think H and I need to go one better than last years episode of topless sunbathing... maybe nude swimming? If we could just guarantee that we wouldn't be spied on by A this year..

Going back to Anorexia: Battle of the Summer Flab...

H and I have a bit of banter from time to time about our size. We're both around a size 10.

Despite me being about six inches taller, our hips are exactly the same height. This means that H has supermodel legs on a tiny body. I have the legs of a rugby player attached to the upper body of a ballerina.

H has a chest that guys approve of. I stand by the phrase 'any more than a handful is a wasteful'.

I have a flat stomach to rival Kate Moss, gained through eight months of hard labour at the gym, and several years of holding my abs taut to fake the flat stomach look. H has 'The Podge', as we have affectionately nicknamed it.

Neither of us wants to be the fat one on holiday. And seeing as F is a verifiable beanpole, this has left H and I frantically doing pre-breakfast sit ups, afternoon jogs, and secret gym trips. The coffee and cake trips have become water and fruit trips.

We both know full well that the lads love us both to bits and won't give a monkey's which of us is carrying less weight, but the battle to look the best in a bikini is taking its toll.

Even the lads are gettin in on it. S tried to invite himself along on H and I's afternoon jog! Ok, so it may have been more about him ogling at us in shorts than wanting to get into shape (although, oh my gosh, if he gets any more into shape I will not be responsible for my actions if I go anywhere near him.. phwoar).

Crazyness...

Never volunteer, always delegate

My bestest buddy H is away travelling in Asia for several weeks. So guess which numpty volunteered to organise our summer holiday while she was away?

Never again, I swear.

The logistics of dates and people was sorted before I was handed the reins, so it wasn't supposed to be complicated.

Have you ever tried booking flights for eight people? Of which you've never met three of them? Also including two who are away at uni? And one who can't pay until the end of the month? Oh, and one who only needs a flight home as he's meeting us in Spain?

Nightmare.